


as the night gets older of you i grow fonder

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, acutally mainly one that doesnt get a name until right at the very end, also a few OCs - Freeform, because little lukey doenst like her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2038860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke’s eight when Ashton moves in next door.</p>
<p>(shamelessly half-based off the video for 'you belong with me')</p>
            </blockquote>





	as the night gets older of you i grow fonder

**Author's Note:**

> WELL no prizes for guessing what music video this is based off!!! i dont even like taylor swift but thsi has been Manifesting In My Thoughts for a whlie now and i just wnated to get it down
> 
> ((also hello as ever pleas talk to me on [tumblr](http://irwinsvibes.tumblr.com) for i am a lonely girl))

Luke’s eight when Ashton moves in next door.

Of course, he doesn’t know Ashton’s name. He just sees the removals lorry arrive one morning, standing on his tiptoes and peering out of the living room window to see who’s moved into old Mr Stafford’s house. It takes a long time watching and his calves are starting to cramp, but eventually Luke sees a boy around his age holding the hands of two much younger children and shepherding them into the new house as a woman (who Luke assumes is the mother) chats to the burly man who’s stepped out of the driver’s cab of the removals lorry.

"Luke!" his mum shouts, and Luke tears his eyes away from the curly-haired boy holding his brother and sister’s hands.

"Mum?" he calls back.

"Go and wash your hands; we’re going to eat in a minute." Luke sighs and throws one last glance at the window, wondering who the curly-haired boy is, before he runs out to the bathroom.

-

Luke gets the fright of his life when he walks back into his bedroom. The curly-haired boy is in the room directly opposite his window, so close Luke feels like he could reach out and touch him if he really wanted.

As if he’s noticed Luke walk into his room, the curly-haired boy looks up, catches Luke’s eye and waves. Luke waves back shyly, slightly nervous for some reason.

The curly-haired boy just smiles and turns away.

-

Luke learns that the curly-haired boy is called Ashton Irwin and is two years older than him. Luke sometimes watches him run around with the other Year Fives at lunch, nibbling at the edge of his sandwich, too distracted by this curly-haired ball of energy to focus on eating.

They never talk, though. Luke’s in Year Three and Year Threes never talk to Year Fives unless they’re siblings. Even at home, they never speak, although Luke trails behind Ashton all the way home from school whilst clutching Jack’s hand. He watches Ashton sometimes, watches him struggle with his homework, watches him play around on his old guitar, struggle to play the first few chords of a song Luke recognises as Dammit.

Sometimes Ashton’ll catch his eye, offer him a smile, but he’ll always close his curtains afterwards, so Luke learns to be subtle.

-

Ashton starts secondary school two years before Luke (obviously) and on the first day of Year Five, Luke realises he misses Ashton walking in front of him and Jack down the road to school.

"Jack?" he asks, when they reach the school gates where Luke’s usually dropped off.

"Mhm?" his brother asks.

"Do you know Ashton Irwin?"

"Is he the kid from next door?" Luke frowns.

"He’s not a kid," he says. "He’s eleven."

"Why d’you ask?"

"He’s starting secondary school today."

"And?" Jack prompts.

"Can you tell me if he’s at yours?" Jack stares at him for a moment, before smiling softly, but there’s something slightly uneasy and calculating in his eyes that makes Luke look away and feel suddenly guilty for something, although he doesn’t know what.

"Sure, Lukey," he says, ruffling Luke’s hair and making him scowl. "See you later."

"Bye." Jack presses a swift kiss to Luke’s forehead before running off to the bus stop, joining the other older kids milling around waiting for a bus. Luke doesn’t even want to  _imagine_  getting a bus with all of them every day. He likes his walk with Jack or Ben. He doesn’t want to grow up.

He doesn’t want Ashton Irwin to grow up, either. At least, not before Luke.

-

As it turns out, Ashton  _does_  go to Jack’s school. Jack tells Luke so when he picks him up that afternoon, and it makes Luke feel a little bit more at ease for some reason.

Luke sees him that night as well, plastering photos and sticky-back plastic onto the backs of his new schoolbooks. He’s focusing so hard on the books that his tongue’s poking out at the side and his face is all scrunched up. Luke finds it…cute? Yeah, cute.

Ashton looks up and catches Luke’s eye, smiles at him like he usually does. Luke feels himself blush and ducks his head down, feeling stupid and exposed and not knowing why.

Ashton doesn’t shut the curtains for the first time in months.

-

Luke’s own first day of secondary school is the first time he talks to Ashton.

Ben’s taking him to the bus stop but he can’t get on with him because he’s got to take an early shift at the café he works in when he’s not at school. And Luke’s absolutely petrified, because even standing at the bus stop he’s being jostled around by Year Tens and Year Elevens who barely even notice he’s there, the tiny little new kid. In fact, the only two other kids his age he sees are the fluffy-haired blonde he’s already decided he hates and his Asian friend who seems to be glued to him.

"You alright?" Ben asks gently when the bus pulls up, clearly sensing Luke’s nervousness. Luke nods, not wanting to speak and embarrass himself in front of all these older, cooler kids. "Alright. I’ll see you after school then, yeah?"

"Mhm." Ben gives him a quick pat on the shoulder, because he knows Luke won’t want a kiss on the head in front of the older kids, and stands back to let him get on the bus. Luke lets himself be jostled, too afraid of the older kids to say anything as he’s pushed back time and time again until he’s right at the end of the queue. He’s the last person to show his bus pass, and the bus is almost full by the time he turns away and starts to search for a seat. Fluffy Blonde and Asian are already sat in a two-seater by the window right where Luke’s standing, deep in conversation, but Fluffy Blonde takes a moment out of it to throw daggers at Luke, which Luke returns as he shoulders past. The kids get older and older the further down the bus he goes, and there are no seats anywhere, so he’s already resigned himself to standing by himself in the designated wheelchair area until he hears someone call his name.

"Hey," they say, "Luke, right?" Luke spins around, wide-eyed, wondering who he’s already pissed off enough to be confronted, but finds Ashton looking at him in a half-pitying, half-sympathetic manner. Luke swallows, growing (impossibly) more nervous.

"Y-yeah?" he asks. Ashton smiles, shuffles up a bit and pats the space on the seat next to him.

"Sit here." Some of the Year Nines around Ashton are giving him weird looks, all  _why are you talking to the scrawny Year Seven_ , _why would you want him near you_ , but Ashton ignores them.

"Really?" Luke asks doubtfully, because he doesn’t want this to be some kind of prank and end up embarrassing himself on the first day of school before he’s even stepped into the buildings. Ashton shrugs.

"Sure, why not?" he says. "It’s the only space left." Luke hesitates for a moment longer and then the bus lurches forward, making him lose his balance and stumble a little. The Year Nines around Ashton titter, but Ashton glares at them until they shut up.

"Um, okay," Luke says, climbing the two steps up to Ashton’s seat and sliding in next to him. Ashton smiles at him again, and then pulls out his phone and doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the forty-minute journey.

-

Luke learns that Fluffy Blonde is called Michael Clifford, which is great because it’s a shit name for a shit person, and that Asian isn’t really Asian at all, but a half-something half-something-else called Calum Hood. He’s in Music with the two of them, and ends up fighting with Michael Clifford over the last guitar until Calum Hood rolls his eyes and tugs Michael Clifford away, muttering something about sharing the guitar he’d picked out earlier and throwing an apologetic glance over his shoulder at Luke.

Luke sees Ashton around as well, sees him surrounded by boys and girls at lunch, making them all laugh about some story he’s telling seemingly mostly with his hands. He sees him wandering the halls when he should be in lessons, sees him on the bus twice a day, sees him in the toilets with a few of his friends talking about some girls in their year. He sees him everywhere, but doesn’t talk to him.

He still sees Ashton in his bedroom, though. He’s swapped his five-stringed battered old guitar for a brand new drum kit and spends hours upon hours playing it, making so much noise that even Luke’s mother mutters her own complaints under her breath. Luke likes it, though, likes it because for the first time he can actually hear Ashton, hear him playing drums and doing something that he loves, doing anything at all, and it sends delicious shivers running down Luke’s spine whenever he thinks about it. Ashton’s got all these friends, all these people hanging off him, but Luke’s the one who gets to see him being himself, completely uninhibited.

Ashton still shuts the curtains from time to time, mainly when he catches Luke staring when he’s playing drums, but Luke doesn’t mind that much anymore because Ashton always smiles apologetically and waves a little bashfully before drawing the material to.

-

Luke and Ashton grow up together, but so far apart. Ashton stays the popular kid throughout the whole of high school whereas Luke remains the shy loser, not hated but not spoken to. He grows into an awkwardly tall kid of sixteen, all bad skin and bad hair and bad clothes. Ashton, on the other hand, grows into himself, all sunshine-esque smiles and sandy curls and cute dimples. Luke stops watching Ashton like he used to when he turns twelve, realising that hey, that’s kind of really, really fucking creepy. He still glances over from time to time, just to check in on Ashton, but doesn’t watch slightly obsessively like he used to.

He ends up befriending Michael Clifford and Calum Hood, too. It’s great, the three of them, but it’s still kind of Michael-and-Calum and Luke. Luke’s fine with that (mostly) because he knows that Michael and Calum are like, soulmates or whatever, and he’s not going to try and impose on that, but he can’t help feeling like he’s third-wheeling sometimes, even though Calum and Michael try their hardest to include him in everything.

(Their midnight fuck sessions Luke’s not that up for participating in, though.)

Luke also realises that he might maybe be just a tiny little bit into boys. Which, when he blurts it out to Jack, is met with fond laughter.

“I know,” Jack says, grinning. “Glad you figured it out yourself. Took you long enough.”

“What?” Luke asks, because he’d been so fucking scared of telling Jack and he’s got another like, forty family members to tell. “How the- what? How did you know before I did?”  

“Me and Ben figured it out pretty early. You were obsessed with that Ashley kid when you were younger,” Jack says.

“Ashton,” Luke corrects without thinking, and Jack cackles, making Luke pout.

“Maybe you didn’t grow out of it,” Jack suggests, eyes gleaming with some kind of mischief that Luke recognises from Michael’s eyes and really, really doesn’t like the look of.

“I definitely did,” Luke says sullenly.

“Okay,” Jack says agreeably, but in the kind of tone that’s somehow patronising. Luke really hates him.

“I’m going to find Ben and tell him, since he apparently knows anyway. And then I’m going to tell him that he’s my favourite brother,” Luke says, getting up.

“He’ll tell you exactly what I did,” Jack calls after him as Luke walks out. “Only with a few more graphic ideas about you fornicating with Irwin over there.”

Luke slams the door in Jack’s face, but still catches the tail end of a laugh as he walks away.

-

The first time Luke sees Ashton cry is the last day of the summer holidays between Year Nine and Year Ten.

He’s been lounging around in his room switching between getting off, wondering how the fuck he’s going to get his sleeping pattern back to normal and feeling sorry for himself because he has to start Year Ten tomorrow. He’s about to get up and close the curtains to the dark of the night to stop the moths and other assorted creatures coming in through his barely-open windows, when he stops. He stops because Ashton’s sat cross-legged on his bed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and Luke’s stomach drops.

He’s crying.

Luke doesn’t know what to do. It’s none of his business, he knows that, but he has this horrible heavy feeling making itself at home in his stomach that he knows won’t go away unless he does  _something_. But he doesn’t even know Ashton, hasn’t spoken to him since that fateful day in Year Seven, has no right to walk over to his house and ring the doorbell and demand to see him. He can’t do anything.

Ashton looks up then, sees Luke looking at him all stricken and panicked, and his eyes widen. He gets up, and Luke knows exactly what he’s about to do – he’s going to shut the curtain, which means Luke won’t be able to help him at all – and Luke panics and shakes his head at Ashton wildly. It’s the first time they’ve communicated in anything other than smiles since Luke’s first day of Year Seven, and it makes Ashton hesitate, hands already on the material of the curtains. It’s clear he’s expecting Luke to do something else, but Luke’s too far away to talk to him. He can’t exactly go up to the window and breathe on it, write his words in the fog, because he can barely write forwards let alone backwards.

He gets up anyway, acts as if he’s going to do something just so Ashton keeps his eyes trained on him, doesn’t shut the curtains just yet, and he trips over a notebook with shitty song lyrics scrawled in it that Luke had chucked off the bed in frustration earlier. He scowls down at it, ready to kick it aside as a punishment for making him stumble, before an idea comes into his mind. His eyes widen – how the _hell_ did he not think of that before, Christ – and he scrabbles around for a pen, uncapping it and flipping to the next blank page in the notebook.

_you ok? :(_

It’s kind of stupid, because clearly Ashton’s not okay, and Luke’s added a smiley (frowny?) which makes him seem like, forty years younger than he already is, but he holds it up against the window before his second-guessing can cost him too much time and make Ashton draw the curtains. He watches Ashton’s eyes flit over the words once, twice, three times, and then he holds up a finger and disappears, searching for something in his drawers. He pulls out his own notepad, stands on his tiptoes and gets a pen down from his wardrobe (Luke kind of wants to know why he needs pens on top of his wardrobe) and scribbles a response.

**stupid girl drama :(**

Ashton’s handwriting is adorable, really, all curled and rounded, and Luke feels his heart twist a little bit at how fucking endearing it is. And Ashton’s added his own smiley/frowny, so Luke doesn’t have to worry about his own anymore.

_i’m sorry :( wish i could help_

Luke regrets his choice of words the minute he holds them up for Ashton to read, and hides behinds the paper instead of watching Ashton’s facial expressions change as he reads Luke’s reply. He only peeks past the paper once he’s pretty sure Ashton’s finished his response (which he has), and is pleasantly surprised by a gentle smile on Ashton’s face.

**thanks :)**

Luke doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just smiles at Ashton and puts his notepad down. Ashton smiles back at him, warm and genuine, and draws the curtains. Luke can’t even bring himself to be upset.

-

Luke sees Ashton at lunch the next day.

He’s sat with his group of popular friends, laughing at some joke one of them has told. There are girls sitting with them too, of course, and one of them is laughing with the deadest, nastiest look in her eyes. Luke can see it from where he’s sat with Michael and Calum all the way across the room.

“Oi, Hemmings,” Michael says, flicking Luke on the arm.

“Ow,” Luke protests, but he tears his eyes away from Ashton and the brown-haired girl and looks at Michael, rubbing his arm. “What?”

“Stop staring at the Year Twelves, what the hell,” Michael says, picking a piece of baguette off Luke’s plate and eating it. Calum gives him a disapproving look and replaces Luke’s stolen piece of bread with one of his own. “This isn’t still about that Irwin kid, is it?”

“It’s never been about that Irwin kid,” Luke says, but he knows he’s blushing. He kind of wishes he still had his stupid fringe, because that at least hid some of the redness on his face. 

“Right,” Michael snorts, stealing another piece of bread.

“Mikey, you have _three_ pieces of bread on your plate,” Calum says. “Stop taking Luke’s.”

“Who are you, the bread police?” Michael asks, stealing a piece of Calum’s just to be contrary. “Stop being on Luke’s side.”

“I’m going to be on Luke’s side if you’re going to be a prick,” Calum counters, and Luke sighs.

“Break it up,” he says before Michael can fire something back. “I don’t want to see Michael limping with a massive hickey by the end of the day.” Michael scowls and chucks a piece of bread at Luke.

“You’re such an arsehole,” he declares. “No wonder I used to hate you.”

“You _like_ arseholes,” Luke says.

“So do you,” Michael says.

“So do I,” Calum puts in.

“I’m so glad we had this discussion,” Michael says dryly, eating a piece of his own bread for the first time since they’ve sat down. Luke zones out of the conversation as soon as Michael starts talking about the next colour he wants to dye his hair and lets his eyes wander over to Ashton and his group of friends again. The brown-haired girl Luke had noted earlier is clinging to Ashton’s, hand on his bicep, and it makes Luke’s stomach churn in a way it probably shouldn’t.

He doesn’t even know Ashton, he rationalises. Ashton’s straight. This is perfectly normal behaviour. There’s no reason for him to get upset.

But then the brown-haired girl grabs Ashton’s face in her fucking claw-like hands, talon-esque nails probably scratching thirty layers of skin off his face, and kisses him deeply.

Luke wrenches his eyes back to his meal immediately, feeling suddenly sick and full at the same time. Michael can have the rest of his bread; he’s not hungry anymore.

-

Luke falls back into the rhythm of school easily. Get up at the last possible minute, brush teeth, wash face, throw on uniform, throw books in bag, cram a piece of toast down his throat and attempt to shout goodbye before he’s finished swallowing whilst running out of the door all the way down to the bus stop. He sits with Michael and Calum in the back third of the bus, since Michael sits on Calum’s lap now (much to the disapproval of the driver) and they chat until the bus drops them off at school. Michael swears for at least three minutes straight if he happens to have Maths first and then slouches off, offering Luke a quick hug and Calum a quick kiss before he goes. Calum and Luke, sharing many of the same lessons, tend to walk off in the same direction, one peeling off if they’re not together, waving goodbye to each other before they get lost in the throngs of students.

He meets up with Michael and Calum again at lunch, unless they’re in lessons together, and they bitch for a full hour about everyone in their year and all the teachers and how they’re not a famous band who are friends with All Time Low yet, and then they skip assembly together and bitch a little more. They all get the bus back after school, too, and Luke makes sure he gets off before Ashton and walks a little faster than his usual pace just to make sure he doesn’t end up stuck behind Ashton looking like a huge creep.

After a month and a half, Ashton stops taking the bus. A shiny blue car turns up outside his house every morning, complete with Brown-Haired Bitch in the drivers’ seat, and they zoom off, listening to shitty chart music – nothing like the songs Luke hears Ashton drum out in the evenings, Green Day and All Time Low and Blink-182. He’s already home by the time Luke gets home from the bus stop, too, so Luke assumes Brown-Haired Bitch drives him home too.

Whatever. It’s none of his business who Ashton Irwin decides to stick his dick into. He doesn’t even know Brown-Haired Bitch. She could be Brown-Haired Babe for all he knows.

Ashton and Luke don’t talk through notes again until March.

It’s been a rough day for Luke, because he’s argued with Michael for the first time in years. Calum had refused to take sides on the grounds that Luke is his best friend and Michael is his boyfriend, and Michael had ended up getting really upset at Calum _and_ Luke and storming off to spend time with some other kids in their year. Luke feels responsible for Michael and Calum being cold and distant with one another, and he’s still in an argument with Michael, and it’s so _stupid_ because he can’t even remember what started it but Michael’s refusing to talk to him, meaning Luke can’t sort it out.

So, yeah. Rough day.

He dumps his bag on the floor as soon as he walks into the room and kicks the door shut, leaning against it with his eyes shut for a minute. He’s so fucking _tired_ , tired of arguing and arguments and tired of Michael fucking Clifford being a stubborn dickhead.

When he opens his eyes again, he spots Ashton staring at him from his room and offers him a weak smile. He’s not in the mood for interacting with Ashton right now, especially since he’d had had Brown-Haired Bitch pretty much surgically attached to his mouth for the whole of lunch.

Ashton holds a finger up and disappears from sight, reappearing after a short while with a notepad and pen.

**what’s up? :(**

Luke sighs, opens the top drawer of his bedside table and pulls out his notepad and a pen. He’s still got the notes he wrote to Ashton in January in there, somewhere amongst his shitty lyrics.

_friend problems. stupid shit :(_

He feels like it’s January again, last day of the school holidays, like the sun’s beating down on his face and giving him a weird kind of confidence to talk to the curly-haired boy he’s known of but not _known_ for the past ten years, only this time the roles are reversed.

**wanna talk about it?**

That surprises Luke. Ashton’s got a genuine look of concern on his face, like he actually _cares_ about Luke’s stupid problems, and Luke hesitates. On the one hand, he kind of does want to tell Ashton, because he wants to get it all out and vent rather than keeping it bottled up, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to annoy Ashton or become ‘that whiny kid from Year Ten’ to him. Ashton’s looking at him expectantly, though, like he’s waiting for Luke to answer, so Luke does. Once he starts writing, it doesn’t really stop, and he ends up writing three pages worth of _i don’t even know what i did anymore_ and _it’s my fault they’re not talking_ and _god i hate drama._ Ashton reads each page as Luke holds them up, nodding when he’s ready for the next, and looks considering once he’s finished.

**wow. michael sounds like he’s being a bit of a knob if i’m being honest**

Luke sighs.

_that’s the thing, though. he’s not, he’s just really really sensitive and easily hurt. and i’ve hurt him and i feel awful about it_

Ashton’s scribbling before he’s even finished reading.

**don’t feel awful about it :( if you can’t remember what you’ve done and he won’t tell you, it clearly wasn’t that important. is he the fluffy haired kid you always sit with at lunch, or the asian one?**

Luke’s kind of taken aback by that, because he hadn’t thought Ashton even spared him a second glance at school, let alone enough to notice the people he sits with at lunch. It means he must have looked at Luke numerous times, because he knows that Luke _always_ sits with them at lunch.

(It makes Luke’s stomach flip in a non-unpleasant way for the first time that day.)

_fluffy haired. calum’s the other one_

**michael’s got cool hair. tell him that from me when you make up tomorrow :)**

Luke frowns.

_how do you know we’re going to make up?_

Ashton’s smiling as he writes his response.

**give it fifteen hours. you’ll see.**

-

Fifteen hours later, Luke’s at the bus stop. He’s kind of early, maybe, because neither Calum nor Michael are there yet, and he’s shifting nervously from foot to foot. He doesn’t know where to sit if Michael’s still mad at him, because there’s barely enough room on the bus as it is and they can’t all split up; there aren’t enough one-seaters.

He’s in the middle of trying to figure out whether he’d be allowed on the top deck with the super-cool kids when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind, nearly winding him with shock.

“‘M sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” Michael mumbles into Luke’s shoulder, and Luke smiles to himself, twisting around in Michael’s grip to hug him back.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, flooded with some kind of insane relief that makes his knees go weak. “I love you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes. “Love you too.”

“Knock it off, lovebirds,” Calum’s voice says, and Luke laughs, maybe a little hysterically, just because they’re all back to being okay and it’s so _good_. “The bus is here.” Luke detaches himself from Michael a little reluctantly, digging around in his pocket for his already-worn bus pass, and drums it against his hand as Calum and Michael mumble continuous _I’m sorry_ s and _I missed you_ s and _don’t do that again please I love you so much_. The queue moves forwards slowly as kids struggle on one by one, girls chatting and laughing with each other and boys already pushing each other around, and Luke watches them all go by in the window of the bus, pass through the aisle, take their seats. Then Ashton walks through, catches Luke’s eye and beams at him, full on _beams_ , eyes flicking to Calum and Michael and back to Luke.

His jaunty little skip up the two steps to the back seating looks a little bit like an _I told you so_ to Luke.

-

“Hey,” Luke says mildly at lunch, reminded of yesterday by Ashton and Brown-Haired Bitch sucking face again. “Ashton said to tell you your hair’s cool, Mikey.” His words are met by stunned silence.

“What?” Michael says in disbelief after a moment. “You actually _spoke_ to Irwin?”

“Uh, yeah?” Luke says, feeling himself start to blush although he doesn’t know why. “What’s wrong with that?”

“He’s _Ashton Irwin_ ,” Michael says. “He’s in Year Twelve and he’s dating the most popular girl in the school.” _That’s_ who Brown-Haired Bitch would be then. “How does he even know me? Why were you talking to him?”

“Just- got chatting, y’know,” Luke says, directing all his attention to the disgusting carrot sticks in front of him. “Dunno how he knows you. Kind of hard to miss you with your fucking-“ he gestures to Michael’s vibrant purple hair.

“I can’t believe you spoke to Ashton fucking Irwin,” Calum says, shaking his head. “And didn’t cream yourself whilst doing it.”

“Hey!” Luke says threateningly. “I’ll shove a carrot stick up your arse.”

“Nope,” Michael says. “My property.” Luke wrinkles his nose.

“Didn’t really need to know that,” he says.

“Didn’t really need to know that you want to fuck Ashton Irwin,” Calum says.

“I _don’t_!” Luke protests.

“Luke, you’ve wanted to fuck him since you were like, eight years old,” Michael says.

“I don’t think I even knew how sex worked at eight,” Luke says defensively. “Leave me alone.”

“Why don’t you flirt with him?” Calum suggests.

“Uh, maybe because he has a fucking _girlfriend_?” Luke says. “And also, he’s two years older than me. And also, he’s Ashton Irwin.”

“So?” Calum says. “He’s already made time for you.”

“And me,” Michael puts in importantly. “He said my hair was cool. I’m going to leave you for Ashton, Cal.”

“He’s going to leave _you_ when all your hair falls out from the hair dye,” Calum says. “Then we’ll see who comes crawling back.” Michael scowls and aggressively dips his carrot stick in the weird creamy substance the dinner ladies have provided them with.

“Whatever,” Luke huffs, fiddling with his bracelets. “I don’t want to fuck Ashton Irwin.”

“Join the club,” Calum says.

“I’m not in the club,” Michael says. “I want to fuck Ashton Irwin.”

“Stop talking about fucking Ashton Irwin,” Luke says.

“Okay,” Michael says agreeably. “I’ll do it instead.”

Luke growls in frustration and throws all of his remaining carrot sticks at Michael, making him shriek and making nearly everyone in the room stare at him. Including Ashton Irwin.

“He’s not going to want to fuck you now, Carrot Boy,” Calum says, picking a carrot stick off of Michael’s collarbone and popping it into his mouth. “Aren’t you lucky I’m a tolerant boyfriend?” Michael mutters something in reply, but Luke’s more preoccupied with the way Ashton’s still staring at them, even though everyone else has stopped. He catches Ashton’s eye almost by accident, eyes wandering over there as if it’s a practiced movement (which, to be honest, it is). Brown-Haired Bitch is sat on Ashton’s lap, face buried in Ashton’s neck (Luke suspects she’s kissing it, or something equally repulsive) but Ashton’s completely focused on Luke, staring at him with a small smile on his face. They gaze at each other for a good few seconds before Ashton winks and looks away, taking Luke’s breath with him.

Ashton Irwin had fucking _winked_ at him.

“What?” Michael asks, when Luke gathers the strength to rip his gaze away and back to his stupid friends. “Were you eye-fucking Irwin?”

“No,” Luke says, but yet again, his blush gives him away.

“Hemmings,” Michael says seriously, and Luke squirms under both Michael and Calum’s gazes.

“He winked at me,” he mutters after a minute, and Calum clamps a hand over Michael’s mouth before he can shout too loudly and draw attention to them again.

“Inside voices, Clifford,” Calum says, sounding almost bored, before he lets go of Michael.

“He _winked_ at you?” Michael whisper-shouts, and Calum rolls his eyes. “What kind of wink? Was it like, ‘hey, you’re cool’ or was it like, ‘I sometimes fantasise about my dick inside your arse and your lips on mine and-‘”

“Michael,” Calum says.

“-okay, whatever, but- what kind of wink?”

“I don’t know!” Luke says. “I didn’t know there was like, a fucking _wink scale_.”

“There isn’t,” Calum assures him. “He’s chatting out of his arse. Again.”

“I can’t believe this,” Michael says. “I can’t believe he winked at you and you didn’t even measure what kind of wink it was.”

“I didn’t know I was going to get the fucking Spanish Inquisition on me!” Luke protests.

“This is horrible,” Michael declares. “I feel horrible. You’re a hopeless flirt, Luke.”

“Whatever,” Luke huffs. “Least I won’t be bald by the time I graduate.”

“I’m going to shave your hair in your sleep,” Michael threatens. “Let’s see if Irwin gives Mr Baldy the time of day.”

Luke just settles for flipping him off whilst Calum laughs himself half to death.

-

As soon as Luke walks into his bedroom, Ashton looks up and grins happily, hopping off his bed and holding up his notepad to the window. It takes Luke by surprise, because it seems like Ashton’s been waiting for him and he actually noticed when Luke walked in, but whatever. He’s straight, and Luke’s two years younger and reading into things.

**see?**

Ashton’s happy, gleeful grin is enough for Luke to know what it’s about, and he can’t help but shake his head and smile at his own feet as he bends down to pick up the notepad he’d just chucked onto the floor after last night.

_thanks for the vote of confidence :)_

**they call me love doctor irwin _;)_**

That’s a fucking winky face. First a real wink, and then a winky face. Luke needs to befriend more straight boys to find out if they all act like this.

_catchy title ;) how did you qualify?_

Ashton grins at that, flipping to a new page in his notebook and scribbling a reply.

**killed 29 walruses. it was a dangerous day**

Luke snorts.

_so you’re to blame for animals becoming endangered? shame on you, love doctor irwin_

**who needs walruses?**

_other walruses! you can’t have lonely animals! :(_

**i could be a walrus’ friend!**

_ashton irwin the walrus whisperer_

**i’ve got so many titles to my name**

_what’s your favourite?_

**hmm. amazing ashton. incredible irwin.**

_awful ashton? insufferable irwin?_

**hey! halfway-decent hemmings.**

_still better than insufferable_

**um. horrible hemmings? loserly luke?**

_loserly? are we resorting to words outside the english language?_

**hey i thought of a better one. horrendous hemmings.**

_arsehole ashton_

Ashton pouts at that, and it makes Luke laugh, albeit a little breathlessly. He’s having a _proper conversation_ with _Ashton Irwin_. And it’s a _good_ conversation, one that’s got Luke grinning the whole way through. This is surreal.

(And Ashton knows his last name. That shouldn’t make Luke’s heartbeat pick up, because it’s not hard to find out – Ashton vaguely knows Jack and Ben from going to the same parties – but it does.)

**lovely luke?**

_are we changing tacks, immeasurably-brilliant irwin?_

**i like the sound of that. sounds like you’re my subject or something. king irwin.**

_that’s not even alliteration. terrible. D- for effort._

**:( at least the letters are close to each other in the alphabet**

Luke doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just smiles at Ashton through the window. Ashton smiles back, and they’re so close that Luke can see the way his eyes crinkle and light up when he smiles. He wonders if Ashton smiles at Brown-Haired Bitch like that.

**how’s year 10 so far then?**

Luke’s breath catches in his throat for the umpteenth time, because Ashton’s actually trying to keep up conversation. Michael’s _never_ going to believe this.

_decent. pretty much the same as all the other years, actually. only mr hardwick gives me even more homework :(_

**tell me about it. he just gets worse and worse as the years go on.**

_i think he has a personal vendetta against me_

**how come?**

_i beat his son in a chess competition in like year 5 and he always gives me more detentions than anyone else i don’t think he ever forgave me for thrashing little simon with a simple four-move-checkmate_

He can’t help but grin as Ashton laughs, because _he’s_ the one making Ashton grin.

**i didn’t know you played chess**

_i don’t anymore_

**you play guitar now don’t you?**

_yeah. badly, though._

**can’t be as bad as me i stopped when i was like eleven and picked up drums instead**

_i know. i can hear them_

**oh god mum keeps telling me i’m too loud i’m so sorry**

_no no it’s fine i like it :) you play good music_

**yeah i’ve heard you playing city of the damned before :) good taste halfway-decent hemmings**

_more like failing at playing it :(_

**hey don’t put yourself down you’re a good guitarist from what i can hear**

Luke hadn’t realised Ashton could hear him play. Okay, he _does_ turn his amp up a little louder than strictly necessary if his family aren’t home, but still – it’s not as loud as a _drum kit_ , right? Or wrong, apparently, since Ashton knows he’s been struggling with Jesus of Suburbia for ages.

_thanks :) you’re a good drummer i wish i could drum_

**i could maybe teach you someday**

There’s traces of nervousness on Ashton’s face when he holds that up, and Luke swallows.

_i’d like that, yeah :)_

**me too :)**

-

It becomes a routine. Luke comes home at around four o’clock and dumps his bag on the floor, making his way over to the window where Ashton’s usually already waiting for him, holding up a note to the window. Sometimes it’s something stupid like _today i am awe-inspiring ashton,_ sometimes it’s a little part of his day like _i bumped into mr hardwick today and he gave me the evils, do you think he knows i talk to his nemesis on a daily basis_ and sometimes it’s just a simple _good day? :)_ Luke’s got through twelve notepads in the past three months alone in conversing with him, and Michael’s hit him with just as many every week for not having spoken to him in real life yet.

(“I did,” Luke protests.

“In Year Seven,” Michael says. “You think any of that counts now?”

“Should do,” Luke mutters, flinching away from Michael as he advances with another notebook.)

Luke learns lots about Ashton too. He learns Ashton’s favourite everything in one night of listing favourites (colour, album, song, animal, band, meal, person, personality trait, feature etc.), learns Ashton’s routine, learns about Ashton’s family (Harry, Lauren and his mum) and about his friendships. Ashton learns the same about Luke, though, learns that he’s a virgin, learns that he likes watching the stars when it’s clear enough to do so, learns that he likes spending time up in the city where possible. They learn each other inside out.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and Luke’s sat on a bench by the road outside his house, waiting for Michael and Calum to come ambling down the road so they can go to the record store together. His mum’s insisted on him waiting outside because she wants to clean his ‘pig-sty of a room, Christ, Luke’ and Ben and Jack are hogging the living room and it’s a nice enough day so Luke had thought ‘fuck it’ and taken a book, sat cross-legged on the bench and waited for a familiar _oi, Hemmings_.

“Hey,” someone says, sitting down next to him, and Luke looks up from his book to be met with-

With Ashton Irwin.

“Oh,” Luke says, and his voice comes out about three octaves higher than he’d have liked it to. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi.” Ashton grins.

“What’re you reading?” he asks, nudging the book. Luke shuts it, keeping one finger on the page he was on, to show Ashton the cover. _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ “Any good?” Luke shrugs.

“I like it,” he says.

“Would you recommend it?” Ashton asks. Luke ponders this for a minute.

“Depends to whom,” he says eventually. Ashton grins.

“To a friend?” he says.

“Both my friends are fucking each other, so yeah,” Luke says.

“Is it about sex?” Ashton asks. “You disgust me.”

“No!” Luke says, voice coming out a little squeaky again and _God_ , how is he acting like this with the boy he talks to on a daily basis? How is he this much more awkward in real life? “It’s- it’s got like. Gay undertones, I guess.”

“Oh,” Ashton says. “Sounds good.”

“Mhm,” Luke says.

“I read The Importance of Being Earnest,” Ashton says. “I liked that.”

“Wilde’s sharp as fuck,” Luke agrees. Ashton grins, and Luke checks himself self-consciously. “What?” he asks nervously.

“Nothing,” Ashton says. “Just- ‘s weird to hear you swear. I always thought you’d be like, the goody-two-shoes kid.”

“I am, kind of,” Luke says. “I do all my homework, and stuff.”

“I know,” Ashton says. “I see you.”

“Oh.” Ashton watches him too, _fuck_. What’s he meant to make of that?

“Hang on, you’ve-“ Ashton reaches up, hands covered in fingerless gloves, and reaches for Luke’s face. Luke holds his breath, wondering what Ashton’s about to do, but his fingers go past Luke’s face and brush something out of his hair. “Had something in your hair,” he explains, and Luke nods.

“Thanks,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound as breathless to Ashton as it did to himself. 

“You waiting for Michael and Calum?” Ashton asks, keeping up conversation although Luke knows he’s a terrible conversation partner.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “We’re going down to the record shop.”

“Jack works there, doesn’t he?”

“Not today,” Luke says grimly. “He’s been wrestling Ben on FIFA for the past hour or so.”

“I don’t like FIFA,” Ashton says, wrinkling his nose, and Luke can’t help but stare at him in disbelief.

“You don’t like FIFA?” he asks incredulously. “What kind of a soulless human are you?” Ashton laughs, easy and warm, and it sends shivers down Luke’s spine because that’s what he must sound like when he’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, laughing at Luke’s notes.

“I always lose!” Ashton protests good-naturedly. “What’s the point in liking a game you’re shit at?”

“Ask Michael. He’s shit at FIFA and insists on battling us all the time,” Luke says, and Ashton huffs out a laugh. They’re sitting so close that it hits Luke’s face, makes him breathe in sharply, makes Ashton stop and look at him a little more intently than before. He leans forward a little, just a little bit, and for a fleeting moment Luke thinks Ashton might even kiss him, before a car horn beeps loudly and they jump apart.

“‘S my ride,” Ashton says, but he sounds slightly regretful as he gets up. “See you around, Lovely Luke.” He grins at Luke and skips down to the blue car where Brown-Haired Bitch is sitting, glaring at Luke through narrowed eyes. She grabs Ashton’s neck as soon as he gets in, pulls him in for a deep kiss, and Luke diverts his attention back to Basil Hallward and Dorian Gray and Lord Henry, swallowing thickly as he tries to think about the painting instead of the exact hue of Ashton’s eyes when he was leaning closer to Luke.

-

When Luke gets home, proud owner of three new CDs, he finds Ashton sat on his bed, book open in his hands. And when he makes his way over to his CD collection, which happens to be near the window, he sees the front cover and smiles.

The Picture of Dorian Gray.

-

Things kind of settle down after that. Luke and Ashton go back to their daily routine of talking when they get home from school, although most of their conversations now include some complaining about how cold the end of June and the start of July are. Ashton’s got his exams coming up in a couple of months and Luke’s got subject selection, so that’s also involved in a lot of their discussions.

They don’t talk again in real life. Luke tells Michael about the other time a good week after it happens (and pays for it in shrieks and small bruises from where Michael had battered him with a Titanic DVD) and watches Ashton from afar at school. He sometimes watches him at home again, watches him slowly make his way through The Picture of Dorian Gray until one day he isn’t reading it anymore. Ashton says nothing about it, doesn’t even mention he’s finished it, though, so Luke doesn’t bring it up. Maybe he hadn’t liked it.

It’s a Monday evening, already dark outside when Luke ambles into his room (it’s barely even fucking July, honestly), drops his bag on the floor and looks over at Ashton’s window, expecting Ashton to bounce up from his bed excitedly and tell him _hey, i thought of the best plan to kill mr hardwick._ Ashton’s sat there, but he’s not holding any notes up to the window, and Luke frowns.

_you ok? :(_

It’s like the first time they spoke all over again, only this time it’s not ‘stupid girl drama’ that Ashton writes on his reply.

**i finished dorian gray**

_did you like it?_

**yeah. it was really well written and an engaging plot. i was more interested in basil and dorian’s relationship though**

Luke inhales sharply.

_i did mention the gay undertones_

**yeah. i felt for basil, though, y’know? cause like, all he wanted was dorian’s attention and affection.**

_well. he got dorian’s attention, at least._

**do you think dorian wanted him back?**

_i think maybe he didn’t notice that basil even wanted him in the first place. i think he maybe could have wanted him back, if the whole portrait thing hadn’t happened._

**how did you know you were into boys?**

Luke’s stomach drops. Nobody except Michael, Calum, Jack, Ben and the rest of his family knows. Not a single person.

_how do you know?_

Ashton seems to squirm a little uncomfortably at that.

**heard it somewhere, i think.**

_nobody except michael, calum & my family knows. _

**i won’t tell anyone.**

_thanks._

It’s small blessings.

**so how did you know?**

_i don’t know? i guess i just. liked boys. i can’t describe it, really. i was just never into girls in the same way everyone else was and i never thought about it. like, i never had that crisis moment of ‘oh shit i’m gay’ because i’ve kind of always known_

(He omits the _hey, I used to be obsessed with you. I still kind of am_ part of things _._ )

**and michael and calum?**

_they’re not gay theyre just???? i don’t know how to describe it they just wouldn’t be with anyone except each other male female or anyone else_

**kind of an easy ride, right?**

Luke frowns.

_what do you mean?_

**none of you ever had crises, did you? none of you ever had that ‘shit, i might be into boys’ moment. even if it was like, being bi.**

_not that i know. why, does it matter?_

**no. no it doesn’t.**

And for the first time in seven months, Ashton draws his curtains.

-

Ashton doesn’t open his curtains all week. Luke sees him at school, sees him laughing with Brown-Haired Bitch on his lap, but by the time Luke gets home Ashton’s curtains are drawn. Luke spends the first few days wallowing in what might or might not be self-pity and then picks himself up, decides two can play at that game and draws his own curtains as soon as he walks in, just in case Ashton peeks out of his own.

On Sunday evening, Ashton doesn’t draw his curtains, and Luke returns the favour.

He doesn’t talk to Ashton, though. He sees Ashton on the phone, looking agitated as he tugs at his curls, speaking with a frustrated frown. He wants to ask what’s up, wants to talk to him, but doesn’t want to be the clingy one that always makes the first move. When Ashton finally hangs up, throws his phone on the floor so hard that it bounces, the first thing he does is draw his curtains without even looking at Luke.

So Luke draws his too, turns his music up loud and finishes his History homework.

-

Ashton’s not sitting with Brown-Haired Bitch at lunch. She’s on someone else’s lap, one of Ashton’s friends – a burly guy that looks like he has fewer brain cells than a skeleton. Ashton doesn’t look as chirpy as he usually is, either, stabbing at the pasta on his plate and not talking to anyone around him.

“Stop staring,” Michael chastises Luke, as soon as he realises. “It’s unbecoming.”

“ _You’re_ unbecoming,” Luke mutters, because Ashton’s his kind-of friend and he’s allowed to worry about his kind-of friends. “Do you think they’ve broken up?”

“Who, Bessie and Ashton?” Calum asks. “Hope so. She’s a bitch.”

“How d’you know?”

“Mali knows her,” Calum shrugs. “Says she fucks everything that walks and cheats on everyone. And is just a massive bitch generally.”  

“Nice choice, Irwin,” Michael mutters under his breath, and Luke kicks him under the table.

“If you’re so cut up about it on his behalf, why don’t you just talk to him?” Calum suggests.

“Because I can’t just _talk to him_ ,” Luke says. “Not in real life.”

“Why not?” Michael says. “You did it before.”

“He talked to _me_ ,” Luke says.

“You’re pathetic,” Michael tells him. “Talk to him. Or talk to him tonight.”

“Maybe,” Luke mumbles, because he hasn’t told Michael and Calum that Ashton’s been ignoring him for the past week; something about his pride is holding him back.

“If you don’t talk to him, I’ll talk to him,” Michael threatens.

“Fine,” Luke says. “I will. Tonight.”

-

Ashton gets the bus home for the first time in _months_ , but Luke still can’t bring himself to talk to him in real life. He speeds in front of him, gets into his room and scribbles up a note to hold to the window before Ashton has the chance to shut his curtains. Ashton walks in just as Luke’s finished writing, and immediately makes his way over to the window to draw the curtains before Luke holds his notepad up.

_are you okay? you seemed a little down today :( is there anything i can do?_

Ashton hesitates, fingers already on the material of the curtain, but he lets go a little reluctantly and reaches for his own notepad.

**it’s been a tough week**

_wanna talk about it?_

Ashton  hesitates for much, much longer this time, so long that Luke’s already halfway through writing _don’t worry, never mind, i’ll leave you to it_ before he starts writing.

**i broke up with my girlfriend because i think i have feelings for a boy**

Luke’s breath catches in his throat, and his pen nearly falls out of his suddenly-frozen hand, because _what?_

Ashton’s straight. That’s the way things have always been – he’s had many girlfriends over the years; Luke’s seen them all. He’s never even shown the remotest interest in boys, never mentioned _anything_ and it’s just – what?

And what’s Luke meant to say to that? Immediately asking who it is is insensitive, he knows that. Saying sorry is weak and maybe a bit patronising, as if he pities him. Asking how he knows is- God, there’s no good response.

_i wasn’t expecting that_

Ashton raises his eyebrows.

**neither was she. neither was i.**

_i’m sorry :(_

**for what?**

_for, like. your relationship breaking up. for you having to go through that. it must have been confusing and overwhelming._

**it was. i think i’ve mostly come to terms with it now. i don’t have a problem with it per se, it was just a shock because i’ve never even considered it. but the more i thought about it the more i realised i’d been into this boy for a while. like, a long while. i just hadn’t realised.**

It’s the longest, most honest message Luke’s ever got from Ashton, and it makes his mouth go dry. He pushes the sparks of hope down before they ignite a fire, though, and writes a reply.

_does he know?_

**i don’t know. depends how subtle i am and how shrewd he is.**

_so you’ve hinted at it?_

**kind of? i don’t know if he realised**

_why don’t you just tell him straight out?_

**what if he doesn’t like me back? what if he’s freaked out?**

_if he’s freaked out he’s not worth it_

**easy for you to say**

_why? i’ve never had a boyfriend_

**have you ever wanted one?**

Luke swallows.

_yeah._

**anyone in particular, or just a warm hole?**

Luke pulls a face.

_gross, ash. i’m a virgin, you know that._

**that doesn’t answer my question**

_it answers half of it_

**answer the other half**

Luke bites his lip before he starts writing.

_someone in particular_

Ashton reads the words over and over, and Luke doesn’t understand because he’s not illiterate, but lets it slide.

**who?**

_it doesn’t matter. this isn’t about me, this is about you._

**c’mon i want to know**

_well i don’t want to tell you_

**i’ll tell you if you tell me**

_what are we, 12?_

**well i’m in YEAR 12 so yes**

_it doesn’t matter who it is_

**is? as in present tense?**

_does it matter? c’mon there are more important issues at hand you’ve just undergone a mild sexuality crisis_

**why haven’t you told the guy?**

_because he doesn’t like me back and is like, thirty thousand leagues above me??_

**if you haven’t told him how do you know he doesn’t like you back**

_why are you so interested christ_

**because i want to know who it is**

_you’re being so persistent today_

**is it calum?**

_WHAT NO EW_

**michael?**

_ASHTON DO YOU WANT ME TO ACTUALLY PHYSICALLY BE SICK EVERYWHERE_

**well who else?**

_it doesn’t matter!!!!!!! why don’t you tell me who YOUR crush is then_

**do i have to say his name**

_i’m not a fucking psychic irwin_

**well im sorry halfway-decent hemmings that’s probably where the HALFWAY-decent part of your name comes from**

_dickhead._

Ashton smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it takes him a good two minutes to reply.

**i’m scared**

_of what?_

**rejection**

_why don’t you just tell him? what’s the worst that could happen?_

**rejection**

_he’s not going to reject you ashton_

**do you promise**

_how am i meant to make a promise on behalf of another person_

Ashton pouts at him through the window, and Luke sighs.

_fine. i promise._

**okay**

_so? does that mean you’re going to tell him?_

**well he promised me he wouldn’t reject me so i guess so**

_see i told y-_

Luke cuts himself off and re-reads Ashton’s note.

**well he promised me he wouldn’t reject me so i guess so**

Luke had just promised the guy wouldn’t reject Ashton. Luke had made that promise. It had been _Luke_. Luke Robert Hemmings had said he promised that.

Is this a joke? Is this some kind of trick the Year Twelves think is funny, making the guy Luke’s had a crush on for half his life tell him he likes him back?

(Luke thinks back to the past week, to the dejected Ashton he’d seen at lunch and wonders if any Year Twelves are willing to go to that much effort, whether Ashton’s that good of an actor.)

_wait_

**if it’s bad i’d rather not hear it please it’s been a rough day**

_do you mean me_

**work it out**

_i’m trying but i’m not goddamn bletchley park_

**i’m not an enigma**

_you are i can’t work out if you mean me or not_

Ashton rolls his eyes, but it’s tinged with so much fondness that’s so, _so_ real that Luke’s heart stops and his stomach drops.

It _is_ him.

**you’re clearly not bletchley park damn son**

_you DO mean me???_

**maybe**

Luke’s grinning now, even though his toes are curled and his stomach’s still not back where it should be and his heart is beating like he’s just run the hundred metres and managed to beat Usain Bolt.

**now you have to tell me**

_are you thick_

**what’s that meant to mean**

**stop grinning at me**

_don’t you remember me staring at you all the time back when i was like 10_

**yeah why**

_????????????????????????????? and you said i wasn’t bletchley material_

**what**

**wait**

**wait what**

**hang on**

**??????????????????????????????**

**there’s no way i’ve understood this right**

**it sounds like you mean the guy you like is me**

_oh my god ashton fucking irwin it’s been you for the past eight years and we are literally acting like we are eight years old right now_

**its fletcher not fucking but i’ll take it**

Ashton’s grinning back at Luke now, some kind of exhausted relief on his face. It still hasn’t really sunk in for Luke, even though he’s grinning so much his face feels like it’s on fire. _Ashton Irwin_ likes him.

**can i kiss you?**

_through the glass? good luck_

Ashton scowls and flips him off, but Luke can still see the elation in his eyes which completely ruins the effect.

**come over? mum’s out with lauren &harry **

Luke nods, chucks his notepad on the floor and sprints downstairs.

“I’m just going over to Michael’s,” he tells his mum, feeling a strange rush of joy at doing something that’s against the rules. He’s _lying_.

“Okay,” she says. “Don’t be back too late, though. It’s a schoolnight.”

“Okay,” Luke says, because he’s not going against the rules _that_ much tonight, and grabs a hoodie off the hook by the door. “See you in a bit!”

“Have fun!” his mum calls back, and Luke skips out of the door, still grinning as he pretty much runs down to Ashton’s house. He doesn’t even need to ring the doorbell because Ashton’s already pulled the door open, and pulls Luke inside before anyone else can see them.

“Hey,” Ashton says, grinning as he backs Luke against the wall. Luke wonders if he’s been grinning since their exchange from their bedrooms.

“Hi,” Luke breathes, aware that he sounds completely awe-struck and not actually that bothered by it. “I feel like we’re in a bad rom-com.” Ashton laughs and presses closer to Luke.

“Let’s say we were,” he says. “Would this be the part where I get to kiss you?”

“Let’s say we were,” Luke agrees, “I’d say yeah, it would be.”

“Good,” Ashton murmurs, leaning closer to Luke. “D’you like bad rom-coms, Lovely Luke?”

“Nah,” Luke says. “Unless they star me and you.”

“Such a cheesy bastard,” Ashton mutters, and Luke’s giggle is caught by Ashton’s lips on his.


End file.
